Just Another Disease
by Kay the Cricketed
Summary: Slash and het Revised! Finally, the sequel series to Conversations. As they embark on war, our four OldWorlders fight a war, form love triangles, and face trials beyond their expectations.
1. Prologue

_Just Another Disease _

By Kay

Disclaimer: I don't own Everworld, Jalil, Christopher, anyone. Although I DO own my own characters if I add them in this fic... And no one wants to steal my characters. So I think they're safe.

Author's Notes: Well, it's a continuation off of "Conversations" in a way, only longer, much more detailed, with an actual _plot_, and chapters that will be added on. More Christopher/Jalil slash, of course. Although I KNOW most people like C/D better, I can't write those two worth anything, soooo... sorry! Maybe I will one day soon.

For the David fans (Duuuck-K, I heart your fanfics!) I DO have some nice David parts coming in. :D Slashy, too, perhaps?

Anyway... it's R for a reason-- there's no intimate stuff between anyone... flushes Just. Later, there will be disturbing stuff, violence, and ect. (Gods, I love angst.) Sorry if this is badly written... blushes and runs off

Daisuke: ... right. Let's just get on with it.

Jalil: She's torturing me again, isn't she?

Daisuke: Oh, and bear with her-- this is the prologue of sorts, and therefore, very very boring. She hates it. She thinks it sounds corny. Go figure-- she's right!

* * *

Sometimes in the middle of the night, when no one could hear him scream, Jalil would dream in Everworld. 

Before they had all faded in the real world, the logical plane of reasoning where they'd been transported to when their eyes rested, he'd only dreamed in Everworld _once_. Once and only once. A dream of Senna and washing his hands, a screwed up play of scenes and haunting words when he'd caught himself sleeping in both worlds.

Jalil had woken up from it. Went on.

Now there was nothing to stop the nightmares or dreams from coming, no reality to "cross over" into, not a place to call sanctuary. He'd expected his sleep to be more or less the same as it was in the real world before the entire mess started-- normal REM, a little time you couldn't remember because your brain was shut down on the conscious level. Sometimes you had a dream, sometimes you didn't. And sometimes you didn't even remember it when you did.

What he hadn't expected was this-- every night he let himself fall into a deeper sleep than just a slight nap. When the nightmares came for him.

Jalil wasn't even certain he could call them nightmares. They were more like a horrible twisted contortion of dreamscape, disturbing and haunting, but not exactly frightening. He'd expected bad ones, about Hel and blood and torture, things they'd been through here and things he'd never want to repeat. However, to the dark eyed, intelligent teenager, this was something new and unexpected.

There's a psychological order to the dreamworld that follows a very strict outline of balance, where there's no reason or logic applied to the realms of sleep. Yes, there are images, familiar realizations. However... order and reality never turn up, there is no sharp, clear thoughts within your dreams. Everything's as though swimming under dark waters; murky, deep, so enveloping in its embrace that you can't bother with mere things such as thoughts.

However, Jalil did not have ordinary dreams anymore.

They had order. Too much order to be true, too many shaky coincidences.

He dreamed every night. Behind closed eyelids that fluttered and deep, soft breaths.

And never, never could he awaken without the screams.

* * *

_The sound of nothing filled his ears like a howling rush._

_In mankind's entire lifetime, the sound of silence has never existed. Noise is a common distraction, a prevailing force in the way we survive, and to truly hear "silence" for once would most likely destroy a normal man's mind. After all, even when we are alone, the breath, the shaky heart beats, they echo within us. _

_Never silent, Jalil used to think. Now there was silence. _

_Around him, falling in sheets of glossy flakes and wisps, a fluttering of snow rained down softly from the sky. It covered the ground in pure, crystal blankets of white and glimmering ivory, endlessly stretching across to a flat horizon in the distance. There was nothing here. Nothing but snow falling, gently brushing over his features as he stared up incoherently at the inconceivable, incredible blankness of the sky. An empty canvas of world. Snowing. _

_Jalil blinked. _

_It was strange in that-- he was here, he could feel the snow beneath him on the ground, shiver at the touch of its icy breath, the digging of tiny flakes in his skin. Strange that his breath came out in shuddering balls of puffed cloud, but he couldn't hear it. There was no sound here. _

_Silence looming over, everywhere. No sound. _

_He got up, wincing as he did, the ice sheet under him scraping his palms. No sound of it, though. Not his clothes when they rustled, not the sound of his breath, no heartbeat. Even the falling snow didn't contribute a whisper. _

_And he was aware. So very aware. _

_There was nothing. _

_Except now there was something. Jalil stood up, dark eyes darting around the wasteland of snow and landscape. Nothing but him, the cold, the wind, and the silence. And something else. He could feel it as sure as his bones were in his skin, like he was just as a part of the ground tread upon by the "something." It was... disturbing. _

_It was coming-- and now he could see it. _

_The dark figure on the horizon, shimmering from nothingness into existence, the absurd way a dream works-- yet even as he thought that, Jalil recoiled at the knowledge he could _think_ in this, knew it was a dream, knew it was illogical and strange. Realized he was aware. _

_Wrong. So very wrong. _

_And the name that passed over his lips, not echoing at all in the stillness, not even being heard-- but _said_-- that name was wrong, too. The word he craved, the person he needed, and it was horrible, but he said it, and it was wrong. _

_"Christopher." _

_And it was wrong. Christopher was in his dreams-- again-- and this time, he couldn't be sure. Was this a good dream? Or was it going to hurt this time, was it going to be painful? Because even if he didn't remember upon waking, in the dreams he recalled every wretched detail of the last._

_He dreamt of good things with Christopher. Forbidden, horrible, couldn't take it, wasn't right, but jesus, he had to dream about them. Couldn't stop his own traitorous mind from playing the scenes out, the bittersweet yearning reaching out._

_There were the bad ones, though. Harsh words, hatred-- the easiest to assume, because Christopher showed the most potential there. _

_This didn't feel like either of those kind of dreams, though. This felt as though reality, although couldn't possibly be. _

_Jalil shuddered in the stillness of the cold air. Wrapped his arms around himself, tightly, clutching the frozen skin and watching silently as the figure drew closer, gliding across the surface of the ground effortlessly. It was definitely Christopher, physically visible now. Washed blonde hair falling slightly into his face as he bowed his head, hands shoved in the dark pockets of his black trenchcoat. _

_Jalil's breath caught nervously. He didn't like this. _

_So wrong. So wrong._

* * *

Sometimes the dreams were different when he finally closed his eyes another night. There were times they confused him when he bothered to consider their impractical realness, and the strange new order or twist that would accompany the new ones. 

There were always new things, different ways, but they always, always ended the same.

He didn't believe in basing your life on a dream. Dreams were merely the workings of a mind's unconscious. There was no truth to them.

Sometimes, though, he couldn't help but think of the taste. The feel of the snow in his back. Touching the soft fabric of his shirt, all something understood, all clear and sharp in his mind, unreliable as it seemed to be.

These were no ordinary dreams, even he knew that. Didn't acknowledge it, but he knew. Jalil remained cruelly, even in this world, a person of logic and intellect. Knowledge held the power, the final key to everything, restoration of the mind.

He didn't believe in the dreams. They only ruled his sleep.

* * *

_"Christopher." Was it supposed to be this cold, he wondered, in a dream? Was his voice supposed to not be heard, even though he felt like he was screaming the words? It was all Jalil could do to resist the urge to bolt, to demand an answer he knew wouldn't come. _

_And the figure who looked like Christopher but yet wasn't him... who knew if he even had an answer to give. _

_The snow fell in spades around him, and he wished he could at least hear the sound of "Christopher" breathing. If it really was Christopher. The blonde figure was before him then, gazing into his eyes, and it seemed all fragmented and ordered at the same time. Like a hopelessly messed up math equation, all the pieces there in their correct formation, but every way it was supposed to go together was shattered. _

_"Christopher?" _

_The teenager reached for Jalil's arm, and it was so wrong. So wrong. _

_"I... Christopher..." And by the time the words were on Jalil's lips, the blonde teenager was gripping his arm tightly, knuckles turning milky-pale white. Holding on so tightly that his fingers cut into the mocha skin, so badly that it hurt and brought sharp tear pricks to Jalil's eyes without his permission. _

_"Christo-" _

_And then Christopher, the dream Christopher of impossibilities, swept down and forced his mouth over Jalil's own-- taking, demanding, harsh. And there was nothing in him except resistance-- the dark eyed teen jerked back away from the blonde's mocking kiss, felt the sharp hiss of pain leave his lips rather than hear it. His arm hurt. _

_He stepped back, tugging his arm out of Christopher's grip quickly, and raised a hand to his bruised mouth. Frowned. Shook his head a few times. It hurt for Jalil to think, to breathe, all was silent... so wrong... _

_"Who are you? What's going on?" he whispered. "You aren't Chri--" _

_And that was all he said, as Christopher's hand reached out with lightening accuracy-- _

_And ripped through his chest. _

_And the blood fell around in silent streams of crimson. And the world of white snow spun softly around Jalil's gaze, darkening into nothing. And the face of Christopher, the one he trusted and loved and hated, stared down at him in calm fascination, the most hideous of betrayals. Inevitable. _

_And yet, for him, his heart was... _

_His... and it was... _

_The snow... was cold... _

_And even though he couldn't hear it-- _

_Jalil started to scream._

* * *

There was an easy explanation of what the dream could obviously mean-- in fact, so many obvious ones that it would not have taken a child to discover them. The fear of betrayal, of pain and rejection. The knowledge of how it would turn out. The unpredictability. 

Jalil was not a child. Neither was he in any means stupid or moronic. If he allowed his head to admit the dreams were starting to become a problem in reality, he could have easily discovered the _true_ root of them all. However, as known, Jalil is a creature of logic and reason-- and he ignored the dreams with a determination that would have made David, the most resolute of them all, incredibly proud.

And had he known what the future would bring, maybe Jalil would have tried harder to accept their meanings. That there was no hope.

But humans like to hope, and as logical and reasonable as Jalil was, he was indefinitely human. Ignoring the dreams would prove to be his most fatal mistake ever. Just the same, he did so to somehow, deep inside, preserve a hope for some normality and dignity-- as well as a barrier against the information that he wasn't ready to gain.

When he woke in the morning, Jalil only dried what tears managed to escape, and forgot.

* * *

END of Prologue 

Eeep. Confusing! It sucked, but hey... it'll make sense later, I promise. And Part One definitely makes sense. (It's almost done, I just still have to fix it up again... I'm being lazy. I'm sorry!) I'd like to thank the people who've reviewed my fics in the past... you keep me going.

Next Part: Jalil, Christopher, David, and April discover the fate of one of the Sennites, and start off on their journey. Involves much amusement and David-ity, so stay tuned! ;) I'm actually putting a LOT more David in than planned, cause... ummm... Duck-K has me addicted to the boy. (She writes the GREATEST fics, I swear... and she reviews mine... awed) Eeee, so stay tuned! ENJOOOOY!


	2. Discussion and Sunlight

_Just Another Disease _

By Kay

Author's Notes: Well. Uh. This is... late in coming out. Whoops. It's really sad-- out of all my fics, this is the one I have ALL planned out... but it's the slowest in coming. Dude. I need to stop procrastinating...

Anyway! Slaaaash, glorious slash, la la la. Enjoy everyone! Thanks for being so nice and dedicated in your reviewing:glomps:

Jalil: She says this in the hope that you _will_ review again, of course.

Christopher: And I would just like to say, to Duck-K, that I am _not_ a slut… that's Jalil's job.

Jalil: ...

(_SMACK_!)

Christopher: AAAUUUGGH! JESUS! THAT WAS MY NOSE!

* * *

Several mornings after their return from Hel's domain, they came together for a meeting.

"We're making good progress," David said.

From across the room, Christopher snorted and leaned back against an oak bookshelf with undisguised tension. Barely glancing over at the irritated blonde, David continued smoothly.

"Now that we have Thor and Baldur and others on our side, we have a much better chance at this. Jalil's ideas ensured our good standing with the dwarves," he tactfully didn't mention Etain's sacrifice, "and construction on our own weapons is only a heartbeat away, I believe. We're actually _doing_ this."

April nodded, her dark green eyes looking more determined than they had for weeks. Obviously, whatever turmoil she had been going through was slowly dissipating. There was nothing left but resignation and newly resolved willpower. Next to where she was standing by the doorway, Jalil lounged in a rickety chair, his long legs sprawled out casually. Instead of being his usual attentive self, however, a distant almost distressed tint was evident in his dark mahogany gaze.

He didn't nod to David, but he didn't argue either.

Their leader of sorts paced the small room they'd met in, radiating a restless yet purposeful air. He spoke quickly, his footsteps echoing on the dark mahogany wood below his feet. "The Sennites don't have a leader right now. It's mass confusion. Even though we don't have the firepower or strength yet to really pose any threat to their guns, it at least makes it easier to spy on them. The more we know, the better."

"Oh, is this where we go in with our Secret Spy Cams? The general's going Agent 007 on us, everybody," Christopher drawled, a sullen tinge to his voice. He smirked in response to David's automatic glare.

"I'm saying we need to know what's going on before we do anything, that's all."

"I don't see a magic looking glass anywhere, do you?" Christopher retorted. "Or do you plan to send some dwarves in? Very subtle. Short men with bad tempers always make great spies."

David narrowed his eyes for a moment before exhaling loudly in exasperation and shaking his head. He turned away, focusing on Jalil.

"Jalil," he said. The dark-eyed teenager looked back at him, an unreadable expression on his tired face.

"Yes, David?"

"Do we have any idea of some way to keep tabs on these guys? If they keep moving, we'll have a hard time keeping track."

"Just follow the bullet ridden bodies," Christopher piped up loudly. "Mass destruction seems to be a helpful hint, right?"

April sighed loudly, gently pulling back a strand of crimson red from her face. She directed her frown at the blonde. "Christopher, I think the idea is to know what they're doing _before_ that happens."

"Well," the tall blonde grumbled, "at least I tried." He stretched slowly, his shirt brushing his waist, and slitted his eyes at her. "I don't see _you_ coming up with anything."

David ignored him, studying Jalil still. The quiet resident scientist's eyes were on Christopher, watching with a blank look on his face. "Jalil? What do you think?" His gaze flying back to David's face, Jalil hesitated uncertainly before answering.

"Well, first we have to find out where they are right now. That's the first step. We can figure things out on the way, but unless we get a somewhat general grip on their location..." he trailed off with a shrug. His mouth slipped into a slight smile as he added, "I actually think Christopher might be right in that aspect. If we want to find them, look for the chaos they're obviously going to induce here."

"Hah! He said I was right!" Christopher crowed triumphantly. "Say it again, Jalil, I want to hear the words off your tongue again."

"Savor them," Jalil said dryly, "because that's the only time you'll hear them there."

Laughing in agreement, April pushed herself away from the wall she was leaning on. Flashing her usual brilliant smile at them, she remarked, "It sounds like it's all we can do, I guess. Wait and hope for some news."

They all looked to David, who frowned at them all, obviously struggling with the idea of waiting for trouble. In the end, he sighed, his brown eyes flickering in frustration. "I guess... if that's all we can do... I'll speak to Merlin about some possible ways to keep tabs on them once we find out where they are."

"Mm, go save the day, general. I'm going to get some breakfast." Christopher turned, waving flippantly as he left the room. The three left behind stared after him for a moment, before April also moved to follow.

"I'll talk to Etain about it," the redhead called over her shoulder. "There's got to be something she can help us with."

The door closed behind her, and David and Jalil looked at one another.

After a long period of silence, David let out a heavy breath, ruffling the strands of brown hair falling into his eyes. He sat down in another red velvet-lined chair, sitting across from Jalil's form, and closed his eyes with another sigh.

The dark-eyed teenager across from him was quiet, slowly blinking at the stillness of the room. It only took a moment, anyway, before David opened his eyes and spoke again.

"You look tired. Long night?"

Jalil shrugged. "Not really. I accidentally got up to early, that's all. Couldn't get back to sleep after that point. It's a bad habit."

David nodded, and they fell silent again. Through the small window of blurred, impure glass, sunlight drifted gently onto the floorboards of the room. It wasn't an eventful day by any means, which might explain the time they had taken to go to the meeting in the first place. After their return from Hel, things had been so busy that there hadn't been time to talk over what to do next.

David picked absently at the scarlet chair covering with his fingers, and looked at Jalil. "Have you disappeared... from the old world? Totally, I mean?"

A short pause. "Yeah," Jalil said.

"Mm. What happens now, then?"

The mocha skinned boy shot an amused look at his friend. "You're the general, shouldn't you know?"

"And you're the brains," David responded with a slight grin. "Every great leader needed advice sometimes."

"You didn't always want it," Jalil mused softly, the distant look returning to his eyes for the second time again. He missed the grimace on David's face. But even if he had, the dark tone in his voice told him enough.

"Every great leader learns from his mistakes, too," he said quietly.

Jalil looked surprised to hear it, but after a second the indifferent look faded back into his features. He nodded. "Yeah, I guess. I don't think I have much good advice, though. Not now."

"That's okay," David said dryly, the bitter look falling from his face. He shrugged and settled back in the chair. "Just tell me when I'm about to screw up, huh?"

"You got it, general."

They shared a small smile, a fleeting expression. And then David repeated, "So. What happens now, Jalil?"

Near-black, grimly patient eyes met David's own sharp gaze. And with a simple, resigned tone, Jalil said,

"We wait."

* * *

They wouldn't have to wait long at all.

Later in the very same day, David was watching the sunbeams carefully paint the floor and walls in their soft cream glory. Already having seen Merlin, and getting a few somewhat okay ideas about their problem, there hadn't been anything else to do. So he sat in the window of the bedroom he was given and watched below. The grass was the color of emerald fabric, pure looking and bright from above.

It was hard to believe, even with all the work and excitement around him, that he was going into a war.

_'You never would have believed it a year or two ago,'_ he thought to himself, almost in wonder. _'You would've never imagined.'_

It didn't seem like it was that long ago at all, though. Even in his mind, his mother's image was still as fresh and sharp as it had been for ages. Any second, he could cross back over and it would be like waking from a dream. A dream that was neither pleasant or horrifying, merely addicting.

_'Face it. You don't really want to go back. You never did.'_

It was the truth, not something he felt very bad about admitting now. They had all chosen, in the end, to stay here. Maybe it was just the power and lull that Everworld radiated, the chance to be someone instead of nothing. The opportunity to prove yourself. To write past mistakes into rights. To be what you couldn't be before.

_'Every great leader learns from his mistakes.'_

Yes. He would learn.

It was an idea he was gradually coming to accept after Senna's... after she was gone. It was hard to think of her now, all alone except for the slight breeze and the warm sun on his face. It was difficult to imagine he had been ready to lay everything down for someone like her. And yet he still...

_'She was... everything. She still is, in a way, even though you don't want her to be.'_

David sighed and closed his eyes.

What would happen now? They would go to war. They would try to get rid of the Sennites, get rid of modern weaponry, maybe even try to throw down Ka Anor while they were at it. When he stepped back to look at it, it seemed almost ridiculous. But it had to work. There were wrongs that needed to be righted there, and as cliché as it sounded, David wanted to make sure they were. It had been partially his fault from the beginning, hadn't it?

If they had never followed Senna. If they had figured it out just a little bit sooner. If he had never loved her. If he hadn't fallen for her spell.

Yes. Maybe a lot of it was his fault.

And maybe--

_"David_!" April cried loudly, her voice panicking from outside in the hallway. His eyes snapped open, startled, and his ears registered the pounding of footsteps outside his doorway. Moments later, it was flung open-- the door hit the wall with a loud thud, and then she was right in front of him.

"David, they _found_ one, they found a body. It was a Sennite, someone found a dead one. They're coming here, but they want to know what's going on. You have to be there, come on, _get up_," she said, and it was a fast blur of words, she was hardly breathing before getting the entire message out. A message that made little sense in the first place.

David blinked at her, on his feet already by instinct. "What!"

April made a face at him, green eyes impatient. "Look, just... just let Etain explain. She's waiting down there with the others, we didn't know where you were. But we have to be there to meet them when they come, okay?"

_"What?_ Meet who? What's going on?" he demanded. She shook her head hurriedly, and walked quickly out the door, knowing he was close on her heels.

"I don't know," the redhead said promptly as soon as they were in the hallway. "All I know is these people found a dead body. A Sennite, from the looks of it. They shot him to pieces, the sick freaks, did all sorts of stuff and left him for dead. These people found it. The... the somethings. Etain knows. They're coming with the body."

"I guess we know where they are now," David muttered darkly, straightening his sword scabbard as they hurried down the curved stairwell. The castle was high, and his room had the misfortune of being somewhat farther up than ground level. He gripped the staircase support tightly, his knuckles white.

"Apparently, we'd really like these guys on our side. But I don't know anything else, Etain wanted you there."

Tossing away the slight rise in pride at those words, David quickly asked, "When will these guys get here again?"

April glanced back at him as she hurried down the stairs, coming to the bottom. They were let back out into a large hallway with darkened stone walls. "I think... maybe by tonight, she said. They live a while away. Like, longer than we've been. But they travel fast."

David stopped in his tracks, forcing her to pause as well. He frowned at her.

"Wait a second. How could they get here so fast? Not even Pegasus was that good, not if this is as far a distance as you're making it out to be."

She sighed, trying to will him to move forward with her eyes, and then stopped. Placing her hands on her waist, smiling at him, April winked.

"Dragons, David. They ride dragons."

David just stared as she laughed at him.

* * *

End of Chapter One:

... I suck at writing. I don't like how this part came at all. Now that I read it over, I just want to go back and fix stuff. I wrote this so long ago... mweh, oh well. You'll live, right? My bad writing is nothing new!

Next pretty lil' part-- the gang meets these strange people. Glee. Some obnoxious jerk makes things difficult for them, they discuss and discuss, politics will ensue soon. And after I get through the boring carp, I'll give you lots of lovely C/J slash and David being hit on by a prince.

... insert evil, malicious laughter here.


End file.
